


Beauty in war

by Jmt91



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Blood Magic, Childhood Trauma, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Dragons, F/M, Fluff, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Mages and Templars, Night Terrors, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Red Lyrium, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-08-11 05:23:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmt91/pseuds/Jmt91
Summary: Adaelin Trevelyan thought that she had escaped her old life. Her family believed her dead and- since the circles collapsed- she was finally free. That was until she finds herself in the midst of a war and is the only one who can stop it. Trying to hide her identity- and her gift- only proves more difficult each day.To make matters worse, she is forced to work with the very Templar who had thrown her into the circle.An adaption of Dragon Age: Inquisition.





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> A rewrite of a work I did from my old account- now orphaned : jennifert_lavellan

 

  
_Slay the intruder._

So much noise. Maker, the screams, the crying for help. Then, nothing.

Only a torch before Adaelin gave any light in the room she found herself in. Her knees were slumped against the ground, the cold of the damp stone seeping into her bones. A cold bead of sweat trickled down her temple as she tried to ascertain what was going on. She groaned at a sudden pain in her hand and -looking down to find herself in shackles- gasped at the cause. It was not the metal which gripped her slender wrists too tight, nor the cuts they caused. She trembled as she moved them around, hoping that the strange glow was just some reflection from the flames, that the green aura was not etched into her skin.

"Is anyone there?" Adaelin's words were barely a whisper as she glanced around the room. Whoever had imprisoned her, whatever they had done, it couldn't be worse than waiting in this freezing limbo.

She closed her eyes tight, trying desperately to remember what happened. She had helped Mother Elaina to the Temple of Ashes and was receiving yet another lecture on the itinerary of the day and what was to be expected. Another lecture on how to behave, what to say and - more importantly- what not to. Then, screaming, a green light, pain. So much pain. Her body shuddered at the memory.

She couldn't remember how, but she knew magic was involved. Dark magic.

Blood magic.

 _Not again_ , she thought. _Please, not again._  
"Hello?" She called again, louder this time. " I need to speak to someone, anyone." Still nothing.

Then, an inaudible murmer came from behind the door making Adaelin flinch. Frustration building, she called out once more, "I demand to know what is going on here!'

That did it. The prison door slammed open, crashing against the cold stone wall creating a deaphening cacophony.

" _You_ demand to know? The conclave destroyed, everyone dead, except from you," her voice was laced with rage matching her expression.

"This mark," Adaelin said, her head down, ignoring what the warrior was saying.

"Tell me, why shouldn't I kill you now?"

"Where did it come from?" Adaelin's voice trailed off. The more she thought about the green aura etched into her skin, the more terrified she became. They had done something to her, something terrible and she needed to know what. Clenching her eyes, she surpressed the memories of her past once more. No, not now.

"I would like to ask you the same thing," the woman snapped, making Adaelin look up at her. She could make out some features in the dull light, but not much. Her face was hard, with a scar resonating on her cheek. This woman had seen many a battle, and likely many more.

"Wait, you think _I_  had something to do with this?" The realisation struck Adaelin like a hammer against an anvil. They thought her responsible for the destruction of the temple?! 

"You are the only person to walk out of that destruction alive. Yet, nobody knows who you are. So tell me, why were you there?" Another woman entered the room. She wore a hood which hid her features but Adaelin could make out a lock of red hair covering her eyes. The new woman said nothing, but stalked the room, her eyes always on the prisoner slumped on the floor.

"I wasn't even supposed to be there!" Adaelin pleaded. "I was only helping Mother Elaina with her journey-"

"Why would Mother Elaina need your help?" The new woman interjected. Her voice trailed with a soft Orlesion accent, neither of these women were from Fereldon.

"She didn't want anyone to know she was ill but she was too weak to make the journey on her own." It was clear they didn't believe her, both women stared at her with suspicion as she sat slumped on the floor trying to plead her innocence.

The questioning continued for what felt like hours, each time going back to why Adaelin was there. She knew just what to say, how much truth to give and how much to twist. It was clear they had no idea who Adaelin was, who she really was and it was going to stay like that. Hopefully.

Finally, the warrior (who Adaelin had learnt was Seeker Cassandra), ended her questioning.

"Perhaps...we show you," the seeker sighed, unfastening Adaelin's shackles. Her eyes flickered up towards the newly freed prisoner for just a moment, just enough for Adaelin to see. She was desperate. At this point though, so was Adaelin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short first chapter, I know! They will get longer, I swear. It has been a long time since I’ve written anything. Not since my old account was orphaned.  
> Any comments would be much appreciated :)


	2. An impossible possibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adaelin tries to piece together the events which have unfolded.

As Adaelin traipsed through the camp with the warrior, towards the remains of the temple, she felt her freedom seeping away from her with each step. True, her shackles were removed and she was out of the prison, but in no way was she free. Just as Adaelin was sequestered to that dungeon, she is now to the Seekers side. The men and women of the camp eyed her with disgust. The turmoil they were in, they blamed her. Adaelin couldn’t blame them. In the middle of all the chaos, she was found - limp and lifeless- with no alibi or reasonable explanation. On more than one occasion, Adaelin thought about leaving, turning and running when Cassandra's back was turned or when she was busy dealing with a demon. But she couldn't. Adaelin woke up today with the world in chaos and she was standing in the centre of the storm. It was like a nightmare she just couldn’t wake from. Since having her shackles removed, on more than me occasion, Adaelin pinched herself sharply on the leg in the hope it would be enough to wake herself. No such look. 

Just when she thought this dire situation couldn't get any worse, a familiar voice yelled from a group of soldiers fighting yet more demons ahead. 

 _Impossible._ She thought to herself.  _There is no way he'd be here, he never would have left...._

"Ugh, when will these creatures just give up?" Cassandra interrupted her thoughts, holding her sword and shield steady, ready to charge. The Seeker was quickly growing on Adaelin. Her no nonsense demeanor and fearless attitude in battle was something she couldn't help but respect. Maybe it was Cassandra who was stopping her from fleeing. After all, Adaelin  _had_ seen this woman fight with such fury. It was not a fight she wanted to ensure herself. No, now was not the time to go. She needed to watch her enemy, learn from them before she has any chance of making a safe escape. Braern  _had_ always told her to never leave a scene if you will appear the guilty party. If she leaves now, they will hunt her down. Maker, Adaelin missed him.

"What would be the fun in that?" Adaelin wiped a drop of sweat from her brow as she too readied her swords. Looking ahead, four more shades charged towards the soldiers circled in a small clearing of rubble and snow. She scowered the group for an old friend, but as none looked familiar, she set out a sigh of relief.

"You're enjoying this?" Cassandra accused, showing a new level of disgust across her face.

"What?" Adaelin asked, "no, no of course not . I was just... I was thinking about... Oh forget it, come on!" 

It was a rush that Adaelin had missed, almost yearned for over the years. The adrenaline coursed through her veins, sinking into every part of her as she slid her blades deep into a demon's chest. Perhaps Cassandra was right, she was enjoying it. Was there really any harm in that? It was the only thing she knew how to do anymore after over four years on the road with Braern. The only reason she still lived was because of everything he had taught her. That, and her secret love of the fight. After all, with the current state of chaos she had found herself in the midst in, it is likely this sort of pass time would be plentiful. 

With unbridled fury, Adaelin danced through the battle, moving her blades in perfect form like the flow of a river. It had been a while since she had used her skills properly, but they had not left her. It was not long before Adaelin was pulling a blade out of the neck of the final shade. Wiping the sweat from her brow, Adaelin turned on her heel, feeling rather pleased with herself. The others were composing themselves following the fight and had congregated in the centre of the clearing. 

"Is anyone injured?" A mage walked through the group. His steps were so graceful it was almost as if he were floating. Adaelin let out a shiver when she noticed his bare feet against the patches of snow. Maker, were his toes not numb? Braern would never have walked around with his entire body wrapped up warm, especially his toes.

"I think we're all good, Chuckles," a voice behind made Adaelin stiffen. She lowered her head, causing a chocolate tress to fall over her cheek. "You came just in time, that second group would have overthrown us." Adaelin kept her back slightly turned as she slowly rubbed and old piece of cloth down one of her blades. She stared at the blood splattered metal intently. Her fascination with the weapon deepened as she heard footsteps shuffle around her.

_Impossible. He's in Kirkwall. He is._

_"_ Its our prisoner you need to thank, she hardly gave the rest of us much chance to swing a sword," Cassandra mused.  _Fuck._

 _"_ So another poor incarcerated victim, caught up in all this."

"It's nothing," she mumbled, turning her head just enough to eye the group for the first time. A flash of orange made her heart drop in her chest. "We should go." Adaelin flicked her head back and made to continue forwards, a little bit too quickly however and stumbled. Her hands fell in front of her just in time to stop her head cracking against the rubble but her chest crashed against a jagged rock, knocking the air from her lungs.

She groaned deeply, rolling on to her back and clutching her chest tightly. 

"Agh, shit," she gasped, rubbing the leather in a weak attempt to rid the pain. "Stupid bloody rock." A sharp sting spread across her ribs when she breathed in, making her gasp again. Hopefully it isn't broken, she thought. A hand appeared above her which she took thankfully, pulling her back to her feet. "Thanks," she breathed, brushing the damp hair from her face.

"Next time, maybe look..." He stopped mid sentence. She could feel the dwarf staring st her, trying to pull memory to reality. Sighing, she finally looked up at her rescuer. Meeting a familiar pair of grey eyes, widening each second they took in her features, Adaelin gave a weak smile. 

"Impossible," he whispered, so only Adaelin could hear.

"Hello, Varric."

 


	3. The Temple of Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adaelin and the group reach the remains of the temple and come face to face with the destruction

The look he gave her was one that she would never forget. A look of failure. Adaelin tried hard to ignore it - to ignore him - as their journey to the temple's wreckage continued. But he was there, watching her. Taking her in with every step. She knew what he was thinking, and it damn near broke her heart.

The Seeker had closed herself off since their meet with Varric and the elf. Adaelin had spoken so quietly to the dwarf she could barely hear her own words, but it was clear Cassandra grew suspicious. She watched Adaelin even more than Varric for the rest of the journey. It was only when they finally arrived did she speak again.

"Do you remember anything? Anything at all which could tell us what happened?" Cassandra pleaded. Adaelin didn't respond, she stared at the despair around them. Burned bodies stood like statues across the ruin, their limbs bent and twisted into grotesque positions. It was she stench which really caught Adaelin however. The putrid stink of scorched flesh made her eyes water and her throat gag. She placed a handkerchief over her face in an attempt to hide herself from it. It didn't work. Her fingers trembled the more she looked at the victims. There were so many. Their last moments alive must have been so painful. So agonisingly terrifying. Adaelin tried to turn her gaze but she couldn't, it was as if her eyes were glued to the image before her.

A hand rested on Adaelin's arm, making her jump. Everyone was staring at her, waiting.  
"S..sorry, what were you asking?" She stammered, still quite in disbelief at where she truly was.  
"Being... Here, do you remember what happened?" Varric asked, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. Adaelin shook her head. The group fell silent again, and Adaelin's gaze turned above her head. It was real then. The hole in the sky. It rippled with energy, making Adaelin shudder. Some have said it marks the end of the world. Adaelin couldn't help but think it was something worse than that.  

"The mark should be able to close the rift, or at the very least prevent any more demons from travelling through," Solas spoke finally. It was as if he had seen this before, his knowledge of the situation which had already transpired made her feel uneasy. Adaelin nodded. He had shown her how to close these rifts, they had come across two on their journey up already. But this one, it was different. The cacophony of sound which escaped made her want to turn on her heel and flee, never looking back.

"But there aren't any demons?" She questioned, glancing around in the clearing below.

"As long as we keep far back enough, no more come through," a soldier behind Adaelin answered her question. "As long as we don't go down there, they stay in there."

"So why are we trying to prod a sleeping dragon? Let's just get as far away from this as we can," Varric shook his head, waving an arm at the wound in the sky, brushing it off like yesterday's news.

"How can we be certain they will stay in there?" Cassandra argued, her top lip pressing upwards as if someone had just shoved a rotten druffalo steak under her nose.

_Run, just run now._ Taking in a deep breath, Adaelin pressed forward.

The demons that rushed through were as deadly as they were terrifying. Shades were tough enough - they were easy to beat one on one but in a hoard they proved difficult - but it was the pride demon which nearly broke them. Adaelin's face was caked in a thick, sticky ichor as the bloody battle ensued. Her arms ached as she struck down another shade, it's scream ringing through her ears. She was still too far from the rift to be able to make the bond. Whenever she tried to get close enough, the pride demon would push her back. It was protecting it. There were four soldiers worrying the creature, they were doing little damage but their constant pushing from all sides seemed to be confusing and tiring the monstrosity.

Adaelin took her chance. She circled round the battlefield until the pride demon had its back to her. There were two shades already on her but she was ready. Lifting her swords high, she lunged forwards to strike the first down. But before her blades could touch it, an arrow shot through its skull and smashed it into the ground

"You owe me!" A familiar voice called from above. The second stopped, stunned at what had happened, and Adaelin took her chance. Her right hand pulled back before swinging hard through the demon's neck. More blood spayed across Adaelin's face, making her gag. There was no time to waste though and, shaking herself off, Adaelin pressed onwards.

The Seeker was doing a fantastic job at keeping the pride demon preoccupied. Her strikes and dodges were text book, each move perfectly conducted as the creature desperately flailed at her in a fit of rage and exhaustion.

The mark etched in her skin began to tremble violently, Adaelin hadn't yet decided if this happened due to fear or excitement, she hoped the latter. Taking a deep breath, she flung her arm upwards, creating the burning bond which electrified through her entire body. Her eyes clenched shut as she tried to fight the pain and centred her attention instead on the bond.

Close, damnit!

It was this fleeting moment of the bond formed that the rest of the soldiers took their chance. The Pride Demon distracted, they charged, with the Seeker in front. Adaelin didn't see how they did it, but she heard the blood curdling screech and felt the ground shake beneath her feet.

Then it happened. For a second, everything went silent before the rift let out an explosion of energy and closed. The blast sent Adaelin crashing into her back. her entire body burned all over and even the thought of moving made her cry out in agony. Even having her eyes open was too much now and, as she began to fall in and out of consciousness, she felt the rumble of footsteps rushing towards her.

"Did I do it?"


	4. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the first attempt at closing the breach, Adaelin finds herself pouring her heart out to an old friend.

Adaelin's eyes were blurry when she first woke but, even with poor sight, she could see it was night. She groaned, lifting a hand up and rubbed her aching jaw. It was hard to see what was around her, a dull light came from a candle in a nearby corner to her left and the moonlight came through a window by her feet. She held her breath for a moment and listened intently to her surroundings. Nothing. She was alone. But where was she alone, and why?

_What in the Maker has -_

Adaelin's stomach dropped when the memories flooded back. The mark, the breach, the demons. Maybe it was just a bad dream? Her stomach lurched when she sat up, making her pause for a moment before standing up on unsteady legs. She shakily walked towards the window, very aware of the cold ground on her bare, throbbing feet. Where were her shoes? Her armour was gone aswell, and her weapons.

Her fingers trembled as they held onto the windowsill, her eyes fixated on the sky outside. So it was real, all of it.

"I still can't believe it either, Princess," Adaelin almost jumped out of her skin when she heard the voice behind her. She turned so quickly on her heel that she stumbled, catching the wall behind for support. Then she saw him. Sat on the other side of the room - the candle light creating a shadowed outline - was Varric.

"Varric... I," Adaelin brushed tatted curls from her face as she struggled to find the words. "What are you doing here?"

"I convinced the Seeker it would be best if you saw a familiar face when you woke up," Varric gestured for her to sit back down on the bed and she gratefully complied. Her legs couldn't hold her weight much longer.

"So she knows about me?" Adaelin sighed.

"You think _I told_ them?" Varric snapped, sounding genuinely upset. "It was far too obvious that it wasn't our first meeting out there, Princess. But I managed to spin a story that I knew you from the Hanged Man in Kirkwall," Adaelin's shoulders relaxed, only then did she realise just how much she had tensed, waiting for him to speak. "If anyone asks, and they will ask, we met there playing Wicked Grace, we're more acquaintances than old friends."

"I don't know what to say," she mumbled, finding it harder to look at him.

"You could start by telling me how in the Maker you're alive? Why you disappeared from Kirkwall in the middle of the night and had us believe you were dead? Or why after all these years you didn't think to let us know you were alive all this time?" Varric stood at the final question, shaking his head slightly as he stepped forwards. Adaelin couldn't answer any of them, she couldn't even look at him, her head only slumped further downwards. "Does Cal even know?" Adaelin shook her head.

"Shit, Princess. Why?"

"That night in the Hanged Man. When we were attacked," Adaelin began, lifting her head only slightly enough to see Varric's feet stepping backwards as he sat back down in the chair opposite her. "They had come for me. I couldn't let what happened to you happen to anyone again." Adaelin finally looked up to meet Varric's gaze. He looked exhausted, great dark circles engulfed his eyes which barely stayed open. He must have been asleep when Adaelin woke. Clearly he needs more.

"That's ridiculous, I was _fine_ ," he waved a hand at her, attempting a cheerier tone in his voice but Adaelin could see through it.

"Varric, you were stabbed! If it wasn't for Anders, you would have bled out." The guilt poured into her now, making her stomach lurch once again. She dropped her head down towards her knees, hugging them, taking in deep breaths as she did. Varric didn't respond, and they sat in silence. 

After a few moments, Adaelin felt her eyes become heavy and it took far more effort than she had to keep them open. Begrudgingly, she pushed herself back up to sitting, to see Varric's eyes were still open. They hadn't moved from her. She sighed, scorning the dwarf within that this story telling from her obviously was not finished yet.

"They were sent by Mother. And they weren't the only assassins. The next night another found me in a street not far from Hawke's." Adaelin couldn't stop now. The truth poured out of her, each word lifting a weight she had carried for so long. "He didn't attack me though but offered me a deal. To split the reward money 50/50." Varric leant forward, his eyes widening. He was becoming enthralled in the tale now, and Adaelin couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to steal any ideas for his own stories. "He told me that Mother didn't want my body found. After I was killed, I was to be buried in an unmarked grave and a token dropped off as proof I was dead." Adaelin rubbed her middle finger on her right hand where the ring once sat. Her lip trembled for a moment and she closed her eyes to push back any tears.

Varric glanced down at her fingers. "Oh," he said finally. "Your father's ring."

"My father's ring," she repeated, barely a whisper.

"But why would this hired thug offer you half the money when he could just kill you and have it all for himself?" Varric tried to hide it with a sombre expression, but Adaelin could hear the excitement in his voice.

"Braern was there that night in the Hanged Man as well," Adaelin wrapped her arms around her body, suddenly very aware of the freezing draft piercing her skin. She stifled a yawn and continued, "He said he was impressed with how I held myself against those men. There was a long silence after that. She knew he couldn't deny she was a good fighter, even back then, before gaining any training from Braern.

In the end, Adaelin couldn't stand the silence any longer. She felt her whole body shake as the tears formed in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't mean to... I didn't want to hurt... And now I'm here... I... I... I can't do this," Varric was there in moments and wrapped his arms around her. Her head dropped down onto his lap as she sobbed.

"Shhh, it will be alright," he whispered, stroking her hair as he embraced her. Her sobs turned into quiet whimpers but Varric didn't stop. And as she began to fall in and out of consciousness, for the first time since everything went wrong, Adaelin felt safe.

The next morning, Adaelin did not hesitate. She woke Varric at the first light and together they finalised every piece of their story about how they knew each other. The silence from the streets last night was now replaced with a buzz of murmer and chattering from outside. Soldiers shouted orders at each other whilst men and woman gossiped on the street. And Adaelin knew what the topic of discussion would likely be. She dressed her boots and cloak in silence then, together, they left.

The streets buzzed with excitement as she walked towards the Chantry. From the moment they stepped outside, they were greeted by a young guard who now led them through the streets. Some people stared, some pointed, some cheered and some turned in disgust at the sight of her. Whispers of hero and traitor, herald and villain came from all around but Adaelin kept her focus. Now was not the time to succumb to idle chatter, even if it was about her. 

Cassandra stood outside with two other woman and a man, all who had their backs to Adaelin. When the Seeker caught glimpse of Adaelin she gestured to the group and they all, very quickly , turned to greet her. 

And that's where Adaelin saw him for the first time. The Templar who had imprisoned her. Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have begun to create quite a back story of my character and I'm really enjoying writing it!  
> I would love to hear your thoughts


	5. Facing fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adaelin faces her captor for the first time, it does not end well.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Adaelin's fingers furiously patted against the large oak table which lay centred between her and the others. They call themselves the Inquisition. All Adaelin could think of was another prison. 

Especially with  _him_ standing opposite her. Varric made her promise not to do anything when she told him. How Adaelin wished she had not uttered those words to the dwarf. Instead of standing here, taking every ounce of her will power to control herself, she could be standing over his lifeless body, her blade dripping with his blood. 

It was obvious he recognised her too. The Templar avoided her gaze and shuffled awkwardly throughout the entire meeting. Adaelin didn't even know what they were talking about. Every so often Varric would give her a nudge to pull her back from her dark thoughts but they always returned. 

"I trust there will be no problems, you two working together?" Adaelin blinked, turning towards the ambassador. 

"Pardon?"

"You and the commander? We are aware of your..." Josephine cleared her throat, "your checkered history together. I trust that it can be forgotten in order to aid the inquisition?" 

"Forgotten?" Adaelin scoffed, shaking her head. "Are you fu-" Adaelin winced as a heavy, dwarf shaped foot crushed her toes, followed by a very stern look. "I mean, yes of course," Adaelin forced a weak smile at the others.

"Excellent. I think we it is best we retire for the day, we can discuss our next steps tomorrow." Josephine began gathering up papers from the table and neatly organising them into piles before leaving the room with Leliana. The spymaster had not uttered a word at all. She was trying to figure her out, Adaelin decided Smart woman. 

"Thank you for agreeing to help us. It is no wonder the townspeople are calling you the Herald of Andraste. You were sent to us when we had no-one else," the seeker spoke softly. Adaelin opened her mouth and closed it again, unable to form a response to the sheer honesty she had just received. Instead she nodded her head in appreciation as Cassandra too left. 

Adaelin sighed, she turned to Varric, about to try and convince him that the only way to end this day would be with a stiff drink, and a very large one, when a voice which cut through her spoke. 

"Varric, I was wondering if the Herald and I might have a moment alone?" He's still here? How did Adaelin not realise. She had watched him like a hawk the entire meeting but she didn't even notice he was still in the room. Braern would have been so disappointed with her floundering. 

"Curly, I really don't think that's a good-"

"No, it's ok, Varric. I'll meet you in the Maiden shortly. First round's on you," Adaelin winked, hiding her trembling fingers behind her back.

 

_Don't say anything. Just stay silent._

Ever since she was sent to the circle, Adaelin had dreamed of this moment. Even after she had escaped there were many sleepless nights imagining what she would do if she ever met Cullen Rutherford again. And here she was, alone in a room with the Templar who had captured her, the Templar who caused her brother's death. 

"I umm," Cullen began, rubbing the back of his neck. He kept his head low, Adaelin noticed. "If we are to work together, I felt it necessary we clear the air to avoid any... Any tense moments." Adaelin scoffed, shaking her head. 

 _Hold your tongue,_ she told herself as the inevitable word vomit she was always so terrible at holding began to bubble in her stomach. 

"I know it must be difficult to understand, but I was merely performing my duties, and I-"

"Performing your  _duties?!"_ Adaelin snapped, she felt her face becoming hot as she stepped forwards. Thank the Maker for the table between them. "How dare you stand in front of me and blow off what you did as your _duties!"_

Her hands clenched to a fist and it slammed on to the table a the image of Sven, her brother, came to her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment to hold back a tear. She would not cry in front of him. Not again. 

"I was a Templar and you were an apostate," the word slithered off of his tongue which such disgust. "Had I not, Maker only knows what could have happened."

"Oh yes, because of course all apostates become abominations!" 

"Only a person ignorant to the consequences of such a tragedy would talk of it so nonchalantly!" Cullen's fists matched hers now, Adaelin jumped when they too slammed against the table. 

"There it is," she spoke softer now, backing away from the table. Her hands swiftly swung behind her back and she clenched them together tightly to stop then shaking. It didn't work. "Once a Templar, always a Templar." Adaelin didn't pause to watch her response, she turned on her heel and made way for the door. 

> As she opened it however, she paused. Not turning back, she admitted, "Know this, Commander. I have dreamed of the day I would meet you again. There are more pressing matters at hand but, and I promise you this, once this threat is over, I will kill you."

 

* * *

 


	6. A new plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The leaders of the inquisition come up with a plan to gain the trust of the Mages and the Templars.

The next few months were long and arduous for Adaelin. Sleep and a hot meal became a luxury for her as she spent most of her time either on the road, helping to calm a world in turmoil, or at Haven plotting their next move. With each passing day, the leaders of the inquisition began to see her as an ally rather than a prisoner. Well, some of them anyways. 

Cullen kept his distance ever since they spoke in the war room, much to Adaelin's delight. They were never alone again, and the commander was always quick to leave whenever they were in a meeting together. It was the Spymaster which was the thorn in Adaelin's side now. Varric said she was just being paranoid, but the Herald was sure Leliana had her people following her. Even when in her chambers after a long day, Adaelin never truly felt alone. Even though she was free, she wasn't, not really. 

It had been two days since they had returned from another venture in the Hinterlands, Adaelin, Varric, Solas and the Iron Bull. The qunari, their latest recruit, had already become one of Adaelin's closest friends in the camp, aside from Varric of course. The group were joined at the the hip almost instantly, along with Sera of course. Adaelin now sat, smiling at her strange group of friends as she nursed a most deserved glass of whiskey in the tavern. 

"Come on, Boss, you'll agree," Bull boomed, giving her a rather rambunctious shove on the arm: half of her whiskey spilling down her arm.

"I'll agree with what?" Adaelin went rather red in the face, realising she hadn't been listening to the conversation at all.

"That spinning Sera around my head as she shoots arrows would be brilliant?" Adaelin snorted so loud the entire tavern went silent for a moment. The others she sat with just burst out laughing as whiskey dripped out of her nose and she gasped and spluttered, trying to catch her breath.

"Princess, you always did have an air of grace about you," Varric grinned, sipping his drink and leaning back in his chair. 

"Yes, well," Adaelin gasped, wiping her mouth, " _you_ always had an air of sarcasm and annoyance."

"Well of course, would you have expected anything less after all these years?" 

"So how is it you and the sarcy one know each other?" Sera slurred, waving her drink towards Adaelin and Varric. She had agreed to a bet with Bull that she couldn't keep up with him. The qunari sat as if he were tee total whilst the elf could hardly sit in her chair. 

"We met in Kirkwall, Varric helped me out when I first got there," Adaelin admitted, "I've never been able to get rid of him since!"

"Hold on a-" Varric was interrupted by a scout rushing up to their table. She looked young  for a scout and she looked very flustered. Her read hair stuck to her freckled skin and she sounded nervous as she spoke. 

"H-herald," she stammered, and Adaelin could see her hands shaking. Was it her first day?

"It's ok, go on," Adaelin reassured her.

The girl took a deep breath, " Josephine has sent me with urgent news. She has had responses from the Mages and the Templars and she has requested your presence." 

"Thank you, tell her I'll be there imminently," Adaelin nodded and the young girl left. "Well," she sighed, "I guess that's my night over," Adaelind stood and stumbled, grabbing hold of the table to steady herself. It was only then that she realised how drunk she actually was. She downed the last of her whiskey and dropped some gold coins on the table. " Here have a drink on me, someone needs to enjoy their night." With that, the Herald turned on her heel and left. 

 +++

"Neither side will listen?" Adaelin asked, gobsmacked at what she had heard. Another attempt at an alliance with the Templars and Mages has been thrown back in fear of the other. 

"I'm afraid not, neither side will listen to us in fear of what the other side will do. They have both said that we are in talks with the others and will plot against them," Josephine kept her voice cool as she spoke, but Adaelin could see the strain this political failure was having on the ambassador. 

"So what is our next move?" Cassandra asked. The Seeker leaned against the table, keeping her gaze down at the letters from either side. 

"Josephine and I have come up with an idea, which is why we have called you all here tonight," the Spymaster responded. Her arms were loosely folded across her body as she eyes the room for their response. 

"Neither side will talk to us, so we have decided to send someone on behalf of the inquisition to plead our case instead," said Josephine. 

Adaelin thought over the idea for a moment. "That could work,"she said finally. Perhaps this plan to get their aid was not so fruitless after all. " Have you thought about who would be our representative?"

"Yes... We have," Jospehine gulped and Adaelin knew what the Antivan was about to say. Who better to represent the Inquisition than the Herald of Andraste? The name for her had become the norm across Haven, much to Adaelin's disdain. 

"When do I leave?" Adaelin sighed, rubbing her eyes. The sudden thought of another journey had made her feel exhausted already. 

"It would be best if this trip began over the next few days but... Well," Josephine faltered, unable to form her words. Adaelin's stomach began to turn. 

"The only way we can get both sides to talk is if we send a mage  _and_ a Templar."

_No, this can't be. They wouldn't be that stupid._

"We will have the strongest representation if we send you, the Herald of Andraste, with the Inquisition's Commander," Josephine gulped, waiting for a response.

"Wait, me?" Cullen blinked. The bumbling fool had only just realised what they were asking of him. And they expected him to speak for the inquisition? 

"You have got to be joking?!" Adaelin blurted, like word vomit once more. She never did have much of a filter when intoxicated. "You  _honestly_ expect means him to travel together?" Adaelin pointed at the Templar, her tone laced in disgust. 

"For once, I agree," Cullen interjected, his voice raised, "it would never work."

"And you have a better option?" Leliana mused. Both Adaelin and Cullen lifted their hand and opened their mouths in unison before swiftly closing them again. "I thought not. You will be leaving the day after tomorrow for Redcliffe. I advise you get your affairs in order."


	7. The day of Reckoning

Adaelin groaned. As the dawn crept across her room through the crack of an old Fereldon curtain, she flung an arm over her eyes. The day of reckoning was upon her. It wasn't the travelling - she actually preferred it to staying put for too long. It was who she was travelling with. Commander Cullen Rutherford. The one person she had avoided with such determination since arriving in Haven; only for it to be thrown up in arms by the leaders of the Inquisition.

Another sigh: Adaelin could hear voices outside her room now, likely trying to decide if she was already up. Begrudgingly, the Herald dragged herself from the seclusion of her bed, filled a cup of water from the basin by the window and took a drink. The liquid was cold and unforgiving on the back of her throat, making her cough and splutter. She tried to use her still damp hands to tame the mane of chocolate on her head, but the thick waves were too unruly. Admitting defeat, she fashioned into a messy plait and pinned any loose curls back from her face.

"Herald?" A muffled voice came from behind her door. Damn, they really were listening to her!  
"Just a moment." Adaelin began to dress with little haste, the more she delayed, she longer it would be until departure. Her underclothes on, she began to attach and fasten each piece of tailor made armour. The inquisition had gifted it to her soon after he arrival. It wasn't ideal - the sizes were slightly out and the metal was already dented in places - but it has certainly helped her on many occasions.

Armour on, she reached for her blades, pausing as her fingers brushed against the leather grips. Braern had made them for her. Maker, she missed him terribly. After receiving the news of her impending travel, Adaelin had finally plucked the courage to write to him. Varric had organised the letter to be sent to Denerim with no interjections. Hopefully he gets it soon. When she started writing, it was to ask him to come to Haven but, as pen hit paper and the words poured out, she realised how terrible an idea that was. To come to the Inquisition, to have to face the terrors she will have to, it would only bring death. No, the last thing Adaelin wanted was for Braern to come. As long as he was safe: that was all that mattered. All she could write to him was ' I'm alive, A x.' 

"Herald, I must insist..." A voice called again, pulling her from Braern. Another sighed left Adaelin. There was no hiding from this anymore. On the desk lay an assortment of maps. Adaelin had already marked the points of their journey - decent camp sites, good places to replenish supplies and areas to avoid. With her maps ready,  she donned her cloak, fastened her satchel and left the seclusion of her room.

+++

There was already a crowd of people at the stables when Adaelin arrived. Her advisors along with Varric and Bull and of course, Cullen. He had his back to her when she arrived and did not turn from his horse when the others greeted her. 

"Herald," Josephine beamed. She was incredibly excited about this journey - the Antivan had hounded Adaelin for the last two days to discuss the different people she would meet, what they were like and how best to negotiate with them. "I have complied some necessary notes for you regarding this trip. They are mostly things we have already discussed but they will be of use to you." Adaelin nodded in thanks. She was about to speak when her eyes caught something behind the ambassador. Something attached to Adaelin's horse. Something she had never carried before.

"What is _that_?" Adaelin asked, pointing at the staff, giving little attempt to hide the disgust in her voice.

"Josephine thought it would be best if you looked a bit more than part, seeing as you are representing the mages of the inquisition," Leliana replied.

"I'm representing all the inquisition, not just the bloody mages," Adaelin snapped and, before anyone could interject, she had pulled it from it's fasten and thrown it to the side. "I don't carry a staff." 

Varric, who had been chatting quietly to Bull this time, stepped forwards and picked it up. He analysed it for a moment before turning to Leliana and Josephine. 

"Don't worry Ruffles, she'll have it with her. We'll make sure of it." He then handed it to Bull who attached it to another horse.

"Wait, what?" Adaelin stood mouth agape for a moment. "I thought it was just the two of us travelling?" She pointed to Cullen who was still tending to his horse. Adaelin eyed him check the saddle for what must have been at least the third time. 

Josephine sighed and shook her head. "Varric had a rather... Compelling argument for why he and The Iron Bull should also join."

"Basically, we're here to make sure you two don't kill each other," Bull reiterated, giving Adaelin his signature grin. Adaelin mirrored it profusely, unable to hide how happy she truly was about this. 

"Tactfully put as ever, Tiny," Varric laughed. "It's more of a gentle support to prevent any... further arguments between the pair of you." Cullen let out a snort from behind the group.

"You make me sound so malevolent," Adaelin laughed. "Like I would do anything of the sort." Just then, the commander turned on his heel and matched towards the group. 

"We really need to leave if we are ever going to find a satisfactory place to set up camp before nightfall," Cullen grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Alright alright," Adaelin snapped, fondling the maps in her pocket. She could tell him that it was already planned, but where would be the fun in that? Instead she gave Cullen a false smile. "Commander stick up your arse," she muttered under her breath. 

"Really?" Varric said gobsmacked, shaking his head and the Herald's cheeks turned a deep shade of red. She though nobody had heard her. "We haven't even left yet."

"Well you're not denying it," she uttered back and turned to mount her horse.

"Maker, this is going to be a long trip," Varric said, and the unison of sighs showed everyone agreed.

+++

 

The first few hours of the journey had been entirely uneventful. Apart from Iron Bull trying to convince Varric to have him as a new love interest in Swords and Shields, nothing of excitement happened. Adaelin took the lead - much to the Templar's dissatisfaction -with the others following behind. The sun was beating down on them all day and now Adaelin felt damp underneath her armour. Tresses had fallen down from their pins and now stuck to her forehead and cheeks. Thank the Maker the sun was finally lowering.  Adaelin tried hard to concentrate on the journey ahead. Josephine had spoken with her many times about what to expect, but she had never really thought about it until now. She had no idea what she would even say to them, let alone find the right words to convince them to join. Blaming her tired, sweaty mind for why she couldn't find an answer, Adaelin admitted defeat and let her wander to their route. That  _was_ something she knew for certain. There were many places she and Braern stayed across Fereldon, one of which was less than a day's ride from Haven. Adaelin couldn't wait: it had been over a year since they had last been there but it was her favourite camp. 

"Herald," a voice called from behind, pulling Adaelin back to reality. "Herald," the voice came again, louder this time. Adaelin rolled her eyes and continued to look forward. Maybe if she ignored the Commander, he would just disappear. If only. "Herald, I must insist." Cullen had now pulled his horse to walk beside hers. Adaelin turned, trying hard to pretend that she had only heard him for the first time.

"Yes, Commander," she said, keeping her gaze forwards. 

"We really must make camp."

"Not yet," Adaelin replied, and she caught a glance of the Templar shifting in his saddle.

"I found many more than satisfactory locations prior to our departure, one is just behind that-"

"It isn't going to be _our_ camp. We are not far now." 

"But it is almost nightfall," Cullen sighed.

"Then stop in your  _satisfactory_  camp, Commander. But I am going to stop somewhere much more than just satisfactory." With that, Adaelin squeezed her heels and pulled her horse further ahead of the group. She could have just told him, but where was the fun in that? Adaelin couldn't help it, she wanted to make his life difficult at all costs.

"I really must insist," the droning voice called out again but Adaelin ignored him. There it was, the fork in the road she had been looking for. The Herald dismounted and headed left, leading down into a valley and into a forest. 

More muttering came from behind her but she did not hesitate. The woods were thickening now. Only the crown shyness above them let any light through. It was harder for the horses to walk through here but Adaelin knew where to guide them.

 _Almost there._ Her pace quickened. It was unlikely --almost impossible - but there was still the tiniest of chance that Braern had been here. That he was  _still_ here now. A wash if excitement overcome Adaelin when she found the thick wall of hanging ivy in front of her. To anyone walking past- not that many people would here- it looked only like ivy drooping down over a curved cliff face. That's what made it so perfect, so idyllic. Braern had brought her here when they first arrived in Fereldon. The Antivan was always rather boastful of the many hideouts he had located around Thedas, but this was his favourite.

"Herald, this is simply not accepta-" Adaelin held up a hand, silencing the commander. She pressed an ear against the hanging foliage, waiting to hear. Silence. 

"Let's go."

++

"Well I'll be damned, ain't this a sight," Varric stood in awe at the hidden clearing. It really was as beautiful as Adaelin remembered. Trickles of water fell down the rock face at the far end, creating a small stream down the middle, which the horses had already trotted over to.

"Someone better start cooking some food, I'm gonna waste away," Bull boomed, rubbing his chest. Adaelin laughed. 

"You've got to work for your food, get the tents up and then we'll talk," Adaelin teased. Bull was about to protest but she knew how to appease him, "This is where I used to keep supply caches. If you're in luck, I might still have something strong still hidden here," Adaelin winked and the qunari laughed , grabbing the tent bags. 

It wasn't long before the group had tents up, a fire lit and food cooking. Adaelin held her agreement and went in search for old supplies. It had been a couple of years since she had been here, but last time her and Braern had left several bottles of Antivan honey-wine. It was the elf's favourite and Adaein did feel guilty for taking some, but hopefully at least he wouldn't mind. 

Adaelin pulled the rocks from the pile aside until the first bottle came into view. As she moved more rocks, more came into view. However, there were fewer than she remembered. A lot fewer. And there was something else as well. A letter. Addressed to A. 

Adaelin was shaking; she knew who it was from. But how did he know she would be here? There was no way he would have received his letter yet: it wouldn't have even reached Denerim. Fingers trembling, she pulled the parchment from between two stones.

The paper was water damaged, but it could still be read. 

_My dearest A,_

_I know one day you will read this,_ _as it means my prayers have been answered and you still live. They say all but one died that day. If there is anyone who survived something like that, it would have been you._

_They say you are trying to save the world. Whether_ _you are there by choice or held against your will, I will find you again. I am coming for you, my dove._

_Remember your lessons._

_B X_

_"_ He's going to Haven."


	8. Redliffe

Cullen groaned deeply. It had been three days of travelling which means three days of no sleep. He had tried, Maker he had. But nothing would come. It had been hours since he had retired to be this evening - anything to rid himself of the insufferable mage and the look of disgust she always throws his way - but it was still dark. 

He turned onto his side; no use. He rolled to his other side, now a rock dug into his hip. Shuffling down, he clenched his eyes shut. Still no use. He flung himself into his back and covered his eyes with the palms of his hands. 

_Please. Please not now._

And then they came. Like a wave of dread, the memories of the circle drowned him. He clenched his hands further down on his eyes but it didn't help. Nothing ever did. 

The breath began to leave his lungs and he gasped for air. The pain, the unbelievable pain overwhelmed him and it took all of his will to not scream out. The tent shrank around him and Cullen desperately scrambled for the exit. Stumbling through the flap, the commander's hands skidded into the grass and mud. With as much grace as a druffalo, he pulled himself back to his feet and wiped the damp mud onto his trousers. 

The cold night breeze was a welcoming change to the sauna he called a bed and he focused his mind on that. The cool air cut into his skin, as if it were ripping the demons from his mind. But it didn't last long. The pain returned, harder, faster than before. He stumbled forwards again, his hands squeezing his head tightly. 

"Leave me," he grumbled to himself.

"Commander?" Cullen jumped so high at the voice he almost stumbled into the still burning fire. If it wasn't for the right grip around his arm that suddenly appeared, he probably would have. Falling into the ground by the flames, he reluctantly turned. A groan inadvertently left him, of course it was  _her._

Cullen shook his head, dropping it into his hands. What on Thedas was he supposed to do? How was he going to explain this? Just as his mind tried to form the excuse he needed, his skin flinched as something cold pressed into his arm. He turned his head just enough to see the Herald holding a flask out to him. He shook his head but she only pressed it harder into his arm.

"Trust me, it will help." His whole body shook terribly and, begrudgingly, he accepted the flask. The cold liquid burned the back of his throat with his first sip, making him cough and splutter but the second only warmed him. She was right, which only frustrated him even more.

The pair sat in silence and Cullen sipped the burning whisky whilst watching the flames dance. With each sip, each breath, each moment, he felt his mind calm. Taking a deep breath, Cullen let out a long sigh and the last of the pain left him.

"How long?" the Herald spoke softly, a tone she never kept for him. There was no hate this evening, only pity.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cullen replied coolly, keeping his head forward. Mia always commented on how awful his tells were when he was lying. She knew before the words even left his mouth that it was a lie.

"Yes you do. And I know a night terror when I see one," Cullen felt his body tense at the words. Of course, another mage moaning about their suffering at the hands of a Templar. He rubbed a finger and thumb across his brow.

"Should you not be asleep this late an hour? I am in no mood to hear of your toil with the Templars, Mage," the last word cut deep, more than he intended. Cullen just wanted to be on his own, Maker why won't she just go back to bed.

"Don't call me that, not ever again," her voice finally found some emotion this evening, and enough to make Cullen flinch. "And I _was_ asleep before you came blundering out of your tent so if you want some bloody peace then it is  _you_ who needs to leave." 

The Herald snatched the flask back from Cullen, took a long drink and pulled the furs around her closer. 

"Why do you fight so strongly for Mages if you despise them?" A hand covered his mouth. He didn't mean to say it, the words fell from his tongue before he had even thought about it. His mind was so exhausted and, with the added liquor, he was finding it increasingly difficult to think clearly. Cullen braced himself for the conniptions which were sure to follow. But none did. 

Instead, the Herald let out a weak laugh. "It's funny," she turned to face him for the first time, "people always talk of the suffering Mages endure because of Templars." She took another drink, slowly savouring. 

"But nobody talks of the suffering Mages have endured because of other Mages. Hopefully that's because few have had to live through what I have." The herald dropped her head again but the flames showed the pain in her face. "I was the victim to blood rituals, many of them, against my will."

Maker, he didn't know. None of them did. "I am so sorry. Who... Why...?" He couldn't string the words together. He didn't know what to say at all. They were both victims to the atrocities of mages, yet they were enemies. For the first time, Cullen couldn't understand why that was.

"It doesn't matter who. It might be hard for you to believe but I was quite a strong headed child," Cullen let out a scoff and felt his face instantly redden so much to match the fire. She threw him a wicked glance but another smile appeared just for a moment. "The mage... They wanted to make me more... Compliant, so they used blood magic to... To change me." Her voice was quivering now. Without thinking, Cullen placed a hand of comfort on her back but it was shaken off immediately.

"I am not telling you this for your pity, Commander, it is to make you understand you are not the only one." She snapped. "You've just got to find the right mechanisms to deal with it," she took another swig. It was obviously the last few drops as her head titled right back. 

"As much as I hate it, we have to work together at the moment. We will arrive in Redcliffe tomorrow and I can't have you going off the rails when you are here to show the Mages that the Inquisition's Templars will not harm them." 

"But what you have just told me... Shouldn't this prove that it is the Templars we should be focusing on?" More word vomit. Maker, this is why I never drink, Cullen thought. 

"Of all the Mages in Thedas, I have met a single wicked one. Yet of all the Templars, I have met a single kind one."

"But-"

"You must be tired. Go and get some rest."

Cullen didn't argue. His demons had caused her to reveal her own. He wasn't going to push her now. When he stood, he felt his legs shake. The whiskey had addled his mind so much he was stumbling but he made his way back to his tent without another question.

As he lay back down, he closed his eyes to contemplate what he had learnt. But his liquor-infused mind sailed into a dreamless sleep. 

 

The next morning, Cullen woke groggy. His head throbbed and his mouth was dry. 

 _This is why I never drink,_ Cullen scorned himself. He sluggishly reached for his shirt and boot before making his way out of the tent. The first light had made its way into the camp but there was only one person awake. Bull's snoring reverberated against the stone that surrounded them. Maker, no wonder it was difficult to sleep. 

The Herald had already packed her tent away and was busy tending to breakfast over a rather pitiful fire. 

"Maker damn it," she cursed to herself, clearly oblivious to Cullen's appearance. He walked over to her and knelt down by the fire that she was still trying to attend to. "Stupid bloody... Why won't you just... Oh for fu-" 

"Can I help?" Cullen asked, making Adaelin jump out of her skin. 

"The stupid thing won't stay lit," she grumbled, waving a hand towards the fire. Cullen glanced at it and frowned. It truly was terrible. Had she ever even made a fire before?

"Well... I mean... It is never going to light properly like _that_ ," Cullen said, his face reddening as she glowered at him placing more sticks and pieces of wood onto it. "I thought this would be easy for you, can't you literally make flames appear from your finger tips?" He laughed slightly, making her raise an eyebrow at him before laughing back. 

"It is rather ridiculous isn't it..." She admitted, rubbing her eyes. It was then that Cullen noticed how tired she looked. Her blood shot eyes were sunken and surrounded by dark rings. She was stifling a yawn too. 

 Together the pair rebuilt the fire "Look..." Cullen bumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, "about last night..."

"Already forgotten," Adaelin dropped her gaze, sending wisps flaming towards the fire they rebuilt. 

"But the things you told me-"

"Will not be spoken of again." Adaelin didn't give Cullen a chance to respond. Instead, she stood and marched towards the horses, which were grazing next to the rock face nearest the tents. 

_Just leave it, she obviously doesn't want to talk._

But Cullen didn't. It was troubling her and, after her revelations, he felt a need to comfort her. She had suffered as he suffered, yet the rest of the world saw none of it. To anyone else, they were strong minded soldiers but, when on their own, they were weak and vulnerable. Very vulnerable.

He stood and walked towards her. The Herald's back was to him; she was busy tending to the horses. Or at least pretending to be. 

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Herald, are you-" 

Cullen wasn't given the chance to finish his sentence. She spun round, slammed him into the stone wall and held a blade tight against his throat.

"Now listen,  _Commader,_ whatever you may have deduced from last night is by no means an cause to pity me," Cullen shuffled and she held the blade tighter against his throat. He held her eyes tightly, and he could see the rage in her eyes. "Quite the contrary," she pushed herself against him, taking a step back. "The only thing you needed to have learnt is that I will not let  _anything_ stop me. Are we clear?"

"Princess!" A call from behind them came and Cullen glanced over her shoulder to see Varric storming over. "A word. _Now_." He grabbed by her byt the arm and pulled her away from Cullen, leaving him alone by the startled horses.

+++

Adaelin didn't talk to anyone for the rest of the morning. She packed the camp whilst the others had breakfast and was already leading her horse out of the seclusion before anyone could voice otherwise. It was another relentlessly hot day, and her plaited hair was already sticking to her skin. Varric's words played through her mind. Maybe he was right, she was too harsh on Cullen earlier. She didn't even mean to - the fury just erupted from her. Why had she been so stupid to divulge some of her past? It was a foolish mistake - one she wouldn't be making again.

 It wasn't until they had almost reached Redcliffe's gates that she spoke. And for good reason. 

"Well... Fuck," Bull mumbled. The group crouched at the brow of a hill, overlooking the gate, with a rift in front of it spewing demons. Her eyes narrowed to inspect the gravity of this. There were 15, maybe more, with the chance of others appearing too.

"You know... There is only one terror. Those shades aren't much of a fight. And the wisps, Varric can take them out before we even get down there," Adaelin expected some agreement, but others looked at her in disbelief. 

 "You're not serious? We need to find another way," Varrics shook his head. 

"I'm with Varric, boss. That's a looot of demon's," Bull shuddered. She gave him a light thump on the arm.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you," she goaded, giving him a wink and a winsome smile. 

"I agree," Cullen said, staring down below. 

"Well of course you-"

"With  _you."_ Adaelin sat, mouth open. Had the Commander really just agreed with her? "Look above the gates. There are archers," Adaelin glanced to where Cullen pointed. He was right. "They will want those demons gone as much as we do, likely they just haven't had the means to remove them permanently," he gestured towards the mark on her hand, "until now." Adaelin smiled. 

The battle was horrifically vehement. Pools of sweat poured from Adaelin as she swung her swords deep into the chest of another shade. It's screech was deafening as it slumped to the ground. Cullen was right. The soldiers on the wall fired arrows down and - when Adaelin first tried to make the bond with the rift - they joined them in battle. 

A blow to the back of the head sent the Herald crashing to the ground. She screamed out, reaching for the back of her head. Her hair was already stick with blood and her head was spinning. 

"Herald!" A voice called out but was deafened by the high pitch screech of a terror. Adaelin rolled on to her back to find the monstrous creature standing over her, arms stretched high, ready to crash down. She stretched a trembling hand forwards and sent a fireball shooting towards the demon. It screeched and batted at the flames on its chest- but the spell was weak. Adaelin had hoped it would do more than just send it stumbling back a step.

Her hands desperately searched for her swords but they were nowhere to be found. Exhausted and afraid, she pulled the little energy she had left to form her shield and send another fireball towards the beast. 

"Herald!" Cullen jumped in between her and the demon and lunged his sword deep into its belly. Thick, black ichor sprayed onto both of them as the demom desperately tried to stop the flow. "Quick, you must do it now!" Cullen grabbed her arm, threw Adaelin back to her feet and towards the rift. The loud, unwelcoming hum of the rift made her feel uneasy as they always did but, without a moment's hesitation, she flung her hand high into the sky and made the bond.

Magic burned through her entire body and she screamed out before she was thrown back. Then, silence. The rift was closed.

There was still shouting around them but it had calmed, the demons were gone. A hand reached for hers and pulled her up once more. The energy had left her now, however, and her legs buckled.

"Careful," Cullen said softly, holding her steady. "We need to get your head checked out, that was quite a crash." 

"I...-"

"Back off!" Bull boomed, and Adaelin noticed he was holding his hammer tightly in his hands. She turned around to see the soldiers surrounding her and Cullen - their swords pointed at her. 

"On your knees, Mage!" One of the men, with dirty blonde hair and a crooked nose which could only be described as warped metal, stepped forwards, but another had grabbed him by the arm. The second soldier muttered something in the first's ear but whatever had been said, he was dismissing. 

Cullen stepped in front of Adaelin but she reached for his arm and stepped to his side. "It's ok," she said and Cullen eased. 

"My name is Adaelin," she shouted to the soldiers and took a step forwards. "I am here with the Inquisition." 

"I said on your knees!" 

"Ok, just calm down, I mean you no harm," Adaelin knelt down slowly, holding her hands up to the men. It was this point where the second soldier spied the mark on her hand. Adaelin saw his eyes widen and he stepped forwards once more.

"Lieutenant, enough, that's the Herald of Andraste for Maker's sake." The second soldier removed his helm, revealing a thick mop of fiery curls. He grabbed the crooked soldier's arm once more. "I am here on the King's orders, you would be wise to remember that, Ser Randyl." The soldier with the broken nose stopped in his tracks. His eyes narrowed and his upper lip curled as if a thick line of dung was wiped under his nose.

"She is a  _mage,"_ the final word hissed off his tongue, making Adaelin wince. Will she ever be seen as anything else? 

"And she is under my protection, by order of the king. Now take your back yard soldiers and leave.  _Now,"_ the red headed soldier added. After a final glare, the crooked soldier raised a hand and half of the men followed him. "I am so sorry, Herald, my name is Lieutenant Matthews, please let me help you," he raised a hand to help her back from her knees. Her body shook and he held her arms tight for a moment but, thank the Maker, he didn't react to it at all. 

"Thank you. Matthews," Adaelin repeated, "I know that name. You've been in contact with our Ambassador." Matthews led Adaelin and the others through the gates and into Redcliffe.

The town looked so much worse than the reports entailed. The few people who remained were skittish- they jumped at every sound and stared at the unwelcome guests with disdain. 

"Ignore the townsfolk. They are suspicious of outsiders, and rightly so.The mages had become hostile after a Magister from Tevinter arrived," he explained as they continued to walk through the town.

"Where are the mages now?" Adaelin asked, scanning the few faces which had appeared at windows and doorways.

"They just up and left three days ago."

"Why?" Matthews stopped, rubbing the back of his neck he let out an awkward laugh.

The inquisition had been in converse with the mages for several weeks. They had agreed to meet with her, so why did they leave? 

 "We aren't sure. Thankfully one of the mages stayed behind, I believe he is being questioned as we speak." 

"Josephine told you why we came here? I must speak with this mage. He may be our only chance."

"Where are the townsfolk?" Cullen suddenly appeared by Adaelin's side, clearly oblivious to the conversation they were having, and was looking around the bare streets. "For such a large town it feels rather..."

"Empty," Adaelin finished and Cullen nodded in agreement. She had thought the same. Even with some appearing from houses to stare at the newcomers, the streets still felt bare.

"Driven out by the mages. When we arrived, there were few townsfolk left. Some have begun to return only after word of the King's presences here." _Oh shit_. Adaelin stopped in her tracks.

"K...King Alistair is _here_? In Redcliffe?" She stammered.

"Yes, did Josephine not tell you? I am Lieutenant of the King's guard," he gestured towards the town hall just ahead of them. "King Alistair is currently talking with the mage, however, I am sure if you appeal to him, he will listen. I will notify the King that it is the Herald of Andraste who has saved Redcliffe. He is rather keen to meet you." Matthews bowed slightly and clicked his heels together before heading for the town hall. 

Adaelin could hear her group talking but nothing went in. She had to figure out what to do, and fast. She prayed to the Maker that the King would not recognise his kin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
